


Wildflowers

by xDomino009x



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Children, Domestic, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Flowers, Gifts, I think that's the ship name?, It ended up gay, Memories, Mother's Day, Shyness, Special Occasion, Witch of the Wilds, flash back, maybe? - Freeform, morriana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-30 00:12:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13938453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xDomino009x/pseuds/xDomino009x
Summary: Kieran just wants to show his mother how much he appreciates her, with a little help from Leliana





	Wildflowers

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't going to be Leliana/Morrigan but then I remembered what a useless gay I am and how much I love these two and well it just kinda happened.  
> I've really got into writing for occasions, it's a lot of fun.  
> Happy Mother's Day!

She was hiding behind one of the large posts of their hut in the WIlds. It wasn't a good hiding place, she could see her hunter from where she was standing, but it should work for a time at least. The old woman prowled around the fire that sat unlit outside the door, smiling and humming to herself. It was a tune Morrigan knew well, a lullaby Flemeth had sang to her when she was a baby, less so now she was growing up.

“Morrigan?” the witch called out softly, hoping to draw her out of hiding so she could capture her, “Morrigan, where are you?”

From her hiding place Morrigan watched her turn the wrong way and peer around a thick tree trunk. “I‘m hiding!” she replied, giggling, “You have to find me mother!”

Flemeth searched a while longer while her daughter tried not to giggle and give herself away, checking theatrically beneath rocks and fallen logs and acting surprised every time she didn't find the child there. Morrigan refused to come out or give her any hints as to where she was.

Flemeth returned to the fire. 

“Should I find you as a dragon?” she asked, looking nowhere in particular as she spoke.

“No mother!” Morrigan shouted, as she watched magical energy begin swirling around her mother’s feet, whipping the leaves and dirt around like a miniature twister. The ghostly image of a dragon hovered behind her for a moment, then the spell ended and Flemeth chuckled to herself.

She seemed to be thinking, spinning in a slow circle with her finger tapping against the side of her chin. “How about a spider?” she asked, her voice a loud whisper as she wiggled her fingers like the many legs of the creature she was threatening to turn into.

“Mother,” Morrigan shouted back, her voice higher than before as her excitement rose. She was doing good at hiding today, usually Flemeth caught her in a few minutes. Again she watched the magic start to form around the old woman, it made her shiver just watching it. She had always been sensitive to magic, even though her own powers were only just beginning to show, but Flemeth had told her she would be a powerful witch one day just like her mother. “Don’t be silly!” she shouted, watching the freakishly large silhouette of a giant spider flicker into life behind her mother.

The spell this time was much closer to completion before Flemeth chuckled and lowered her hands to her side, grinning the same wicked grin she always had when she was teasing the young girl.

She stalked around the fire a little longer before stopping, and beaming. “Maybe… a cat?”

The magic came again, the spell much quicker this time since the creature was much simpler than the others. Morrigan didn't have time to yell out her objections before a little black cat darted out from a flash of brilliant light. The Flemeth cat was gone in an instant, around the opposite side of the building.

Morrigan squealed in delight even as she cried out, “No, as a human mother!”

There was a long while of stillness, where all Morrigan could hear was her own quick breathing, the wind rustling the leaves of the trees and the occasional birdsong. 

She didn't hear the creature coming up behind her, she was sure her mother would return to the fire after being unable to find her over the wrong side of the hut.

“This human?” Flemeth asked, grabbing Morrigan as she dispelled the shape shifting and scooped her daughter into her arms. Morrigan was growing so fast, soon she wouldn't be able to do this as easily. For now though Morrigan was light, and she was easy to swing around even while she giggled and kicked her legs out. Flemeth put her down on the ground but didn't let her go, instead grabbing her sides and keeping her hostage.

“Let go,” Morrigan demanded through her laughter, “stop that tickles!”

Flemeth shook her head and held her tighter, “I can’t let you go, I’m the evil Witch of the Wilds remember!”

Morrigan squealed and squirmed as hard as she could, but Flemeth was bigger than her and stronger and apparently much more determined. When the girl thought she was ready to give up, she felt the tingle of mana running down her spine, felt the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. It sent goosebumps down her arms as Flemeth let go of her, backing away, while a small blast of magic blew the fallen leaves and loose dirt away from Morrigan’s feet.

She turned to her mother, apologetic, but Flemeth was smiling proudly at her. She tapped the back of her head as she made her way inside, indicating that Morrigan should go with her.

“Should I make a stew?” Morrigan asked as they walked side by side. She had been watching Flemeth make it each time, she was sure she knew the ingredients by now. She might need help cutting things up, but she could make it she was sure, at least she could if she found a log or rock to stand on beside the cauldron. 

Her mother barked out a sharp laugh, “So you can poison me?” she scoffed, “Oh no, I don’t think so.”

“But it’s…”

Flemeth stopped and Morrigan let her voice trail off, realising her mistake. She shouldn't have repeated what she’d heard in the village, the people of Lothering didn't understand her and her mother, they traded with them reluctantly but Morrigan knew her mother hated when they had to rely on outsiders, non-mages. 

“Don’t let outsiders fill your head with their lies,” Flemeth told her sternly, brows furrowed, “It’s the same as any other day.”

“Yes mother,” the girl muttered as she watched the witch walk into the hut, “I’m sorry mother.”

 

Leliana had been sitting beside her on the bench for a good fifteen minutes. They’d sat in silence, Morrigan pondering something. Her mind was a maze, and for all Leliana’s skill in the game she still could never tell what the witch was thinking. But she had changed over the decade they’d been apart, and Leliana didn't spend her time wondering in hindsight what her motives were, she didn't obsess over every quirk of her brow, every curl of her lips. Instead she was just… she didn't know. Love-struck, maybe? It seemed appropriate, not that she would every utter it aloud, least of all the the apostate woman herself.

“What are you thinking about, Morrigan?” she asked gently, letting her hand fall between them to rest over the witch’s. Her skin was so pale, as it always had been, like the fine porcelain of an Orlesian doll. 

Morrigan sighed, looked like she wanted to move her hand and then changed her mind. “Nothing. Idle musings, pay me no mind.”

“Is it because today is…”

“Of course not.” Morrigan cut her off quickly. “I do not subscribe to your ridiculous traditions.”

She did not need a day to celebrate her mother, the monster who would have killed her and then paraded around in her body just to preserve her own life. A good mother did not plan the murder of her own daughters, she protected them, she nurtured them, she kept them from all harm as best she could until they were ready to face it.

Morrigan would never forget the horrors she endured as a child, the same horrors she had sworn never to let Kieran see. He would not see a Templar murdered, he would not see men used until they were spent and cast aside like rubbish. He would be a child for as long as she could keep it so.

“Mama!” 

Morrigan looked up, her son running up to her with his eyes bright. He had his hands behind his back, she scowled until he slowed down to a safer speed.

“Yes, Kieran?” She shifted a rolled up scroll from her lap, freeing it for him if he wanted to sit with her and the bard. He stayed standing, glancing awkwardly between his mother and Leliana. Leliana nodded reassuringly as Kieran hesitated and Morrigan forced herself to continue smiling while she wondered what plan the insufferable woman had roped her son into this time.

“Everyone was saying it’s a special day today,” he told her, too young to notice his mother’s posture stiffen slightly at his words, “I got these for you.”

The boy held his hands out to her, a small bouquet of wildflowers gathered together in a red ribbon. Morrigan stared at them for a moment, temporarily lost for words. It was a moment Leliana made sure to etch into her memory, a rare instance when the witch was speechless. There was no witty comeback to a pure act like this.

“Kieran you…” Morrigan swallowed, “You didn't have to do that.”

Leliana pressed the heel of her boot into her foot, whispering her name angrily under her breath.

Morrigan took the hint and tried again. “Thank you Kieran,” she took the small cluster of flowers from him and brought them to her nose. They smelled exactly as they should have, honestly they almost smelled so faintly she couldn't smell them, but she remembered how her mother had exaggerated everything to please her when she was his age and made sure to take a deep breath in through her nose, smiling as she breathed out. “I don’t know what to say,” she told him earnestly, and after a few moments of choosing the perfect words she settled with, “They smell wonderful, thank you.”

“Happy mothers day!”

Kieran ran off as quickly as he had ran over, running back into Skyhold no doubt to meet with the other children staying here with refugees and soldiers. It was amazing how quickly he had adjusted to life here, how easily he had made friends.

Morrigan sighed and frowned down at the flowers. Leliana looked away, squeezing the hand that was still beneath hers and doing her best to lace their fingers together against the bench. 

“He… is a better son than I was a daughter.” Morrigan told her, not looking at her either. 

Leliana shook her head, turning and reaching to brush the half fallen tear from Morrigan’s cheek. What would she have said ten years ago if she’d been told she would be sitting in a Chantry garden with the apostate, comforting her? She wouldn't have believed it, she had been sure that she and the witch would never be friends, no matter how much time they may have spent with one another.

“No,” she replied, “You are just a better mother to him than yours was to you.”

Morrigan smiled at that, laughed even, and brushed her hand over her eyes. Then she picked one of the flowers from the bundle and pushed the stalk behind Leliana’s ear beside her braid.

“You’ve been so good to us since we came, to me,” she told her, “And I can’t-”

“Thank me tomorrow,” Leliana told her, holding a gentle finger up to her lips even while her eyes sparkled with the old mischief Morrigan recognised so well, “Today is your day, enjoy it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you're all having a good day!  
> Let me know if I've made any mistakes cos I usually do... I'm not a good proofreader and I never claimed to be!


End file.
